Chapter V

A Short One - Showing, Among Other Matters, How Mr Pickwick

Undertook To Drive, And Mr Winkle To Ride, And How They Both

Did It

Bright and pleasant was the sky, balmy the air, and beautiful the

appearance of every object around, as Mr Pickwick leaned over the

balustrades of Rochester Bridge, contemplating nature, and waiting

for breakfast. The scene was indeed one which might well have

charmed a far less reflective mind, than that to which it was

presented.

On the left of the spectator lay the ruined wall, broken in many

places, and in some, overhanging the narrow beach below in rude and

heavy masses. Huge knots of seaweed hung upon the jagged and

pointed stones, trembling in every breath of wind; and the green ivy

clung mournfully round the dark and ruined battlements. Behind it

rose the ancient castle, its towers roofless, and its massive walls

crumbling away, but telling us proudly of its old might and strength,

as when, seven hundred years ago, it rang with the clash of arms, or

resounded with the noise of feasting and revelry. On either side, the

banks of the Medway, covered with cornfields and pastures, with here

and there a windmill, or a distant church, stretched away as far as the

eye could see, presenting a rich and varied landscape, rendered more

beautiful by the changing shadows which passed swiftly across it as

the thin and half-formed clouds skimmed away in the light of the

morning sun. The river, reflecting the clear blue of the sky, glistened

and sparkled as it flowed noiselessly on; and the oars of the fishermen

dipped into the water with a clear and liquid sound, as their heavy but

picturesque boats glided slowly down the stream.

Mr Pickwick was roused from the agreeable reverie into which he had

been led by the objects before him, by a deep sigh, and a touch on his

shoulder. He turned round: and the dismal man was at his side.

'Contemplating the scene?' inquired the dismal man. 'I was,' said Mr

Pickwick.

And congratulating yourself on being up so soon?'

Mr Pickwick nodded assent.

Ah! people need to rise early, to see the sun in all his splendour, for

his brightness seldom lasts the day through. The morning of day and

the morning of life are but too much alike.'

'You speak truly, sir,' said Mr Pickwick.

The Pickwick Papers